Dust to Dust
by Delixer
Summary: The girl rolled her eyes. "No," she answered sacrcastically, "I'm talking to the depressed, blonde ghost behind you." "You believe in ghosts?" The boy asked. The girl shrugged. "I was always open to the idea. I guessed when we're done with the body, the spirit's got to go somewhere right? As the saying goes: Ashes to ashes. Dust- "Dust to dust. Yeah, I know the saying." Oneshot


The bar was nearly empty. A few drunks laughed loudly in the center of it. Two old women quietly talked at a table near the exit. Mack, the bartender, was nervous and jittery as usual and was waiting to close up for the night.

A lone boy sat in the darkest corner of the bar, nearest to the old ladies.

He wore an unzipped, white jacket with several black block designs and a grey hem on the end of each sleeve. This jacket's collar was red and pleated and folded back. A second jacket, a black, high-collared jacket, to be precise, was worn underneath the white one. His most striking features were his piercing blue eyes. His blonde hair was piled in a messy fashion and looked like it hadn't been groomed in quite some time.

There was nothing about the boy to suggest he had been dead for quite some time.

"Mack," the boy said in a raspy voice, "Get me a beer."

It had taken some time, but the ghost-boy had finally found somebody who could speak with ghosts. Unfortunately, Mack wanted nothing to do with him.

The big man cautiously made his way over to the boy and spoke in a frantic whisper, "Look Ghost-Boy, i don't know who you are or why I'm the only one that can see you, but I can't be seen serving drinks to something that doesn't exist. What will my customers think?"

As if to prove Mack's point, the two old ladies exchanged worried glances and got up to leave the bar. The ghost only seemed amused with the ladies' reaction.

Mack glared at the ghost, who stared back expectingly at Mack. "I still want my beer."

"Dammit Ghost-Boy! I said no!" Mack snarled. The bartender walked away, quickly looked back and asked, "Why do you want a drink anyway? Ghosts can't actually drink anything!"

The blonde boy raised an eyebrow, "How do you know?"

A bead of sweat appeared on Mack's forehead and the bartender looked over his shoulder nervously, "Can ghosts drink?

The boy closed his eyes and gave Mack a bitter smile, "No Mack. I can't drink. I can't do anything really. I guess ghosts... or whatever I am, can't interact with your world. I'm only allowed to sit in this world as a spectator. Only able to watch the world around me. A fate worse than death i would say."

The ghost smirked, "Besides, I'm technically underage."

Mack blinked at the boy. He opened his mouth but then closed it quickly shook his head. "I can't be seen talking to you."

The boy closed his eyes. He couldn't blame Mack for not wanting to talk to a ghost. He heard the door open and turned his head to look at the newcomer.

She was a girl his age. She shared his bright blue eyes. The girl had short black hair that was cropped in a tomboyish style. She was wearing a black t-shirt under an unzipped, black and white checkered jacket. The jacket only extended to elbow length. She wore tight grey jeans and white sneakers.

The girl walked over to where the blonde was sitting and sat down next the boy. The blonde ignored her. She wouldn't be able to hear him anyway.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He ignored the girl.

"Hey blondie! I'm talking to you!"

The blonde nearly jumped out of his seat and whipped his head around to look at the girl.

"What's the matter bedhead? Cat got your tongue?" the girl asked playfully.

The blonde's jaw dropped. He turned to look at Mack, who was staring curiously at the newcomer.

"Err... are you talking to me?" the blonde asked.

The girl rolled her eyes. "No," she answered sacrcastically, "I'm talking to the depressed, blonde ghost _behind _you."

"I get all the nuts..." Mack muttered.

"You believe in ghosts?" The boy asked.

The girl shrugged. "I was always open to the idea. I guessed when we're done with the body, the spirit's got to go somewhere right? As the saying goes: Ashes to ashes. Dust-

"Dust to dust," the blonde finished, "Yeah, I know the saying."

The girl smiled, "But you still haven't told me why you're depressed."

The blonde chewed on one fingernail nervously, indulging his bad habit. "I'm not depressed."

The girl swiped a strand of hair out of her eys and propped one elbow up on the bar table, resting her head on her fist. She raised an eyebrow.

The blonde glared at her. "So maybe I am depressed! Being dead does that to you."

The girl's blue eyes stared into him. She was fascinated with the ghost. Completely fixated on his every word.

"There must be more than that."

The blonde hesitated. Should he tell her? About Sora and himself? Xemnas and the Organization? About Axel and... the other girl.

_Why the hell not?_

The blonde stared at her. "You really want to know?"

She smiled at him and tucked a loose strand of raven-colored hair behind her ear. "I'm listening aren't I?"

"Well... I was part of a criminal organization who meddled in the affairs of other worlds and tried to recruit people by stealing their hearts. I also helped them almost destroy the world, by the way. I wasn't a person, I was an empty shell called a Nobody. Now I'm the ghost of a Nobody. Speaking of which, I'm the Nobody of a boy named Sora, who wielded a Keyblade. A Keyblade is a weapon that is able to control light and banish darkness. I inherited the ability to summon a Keyblade from Sora."

He stared at the girl, who seemed unfazed by his story.

"Continue," the girl prompted

"Okay... I'm responsible for the death of my two best friends, one of which I can't even remember her name. I lived an good life with four completely different best friends, all of which turned out to be virtual illusions. I sacraficed my body and reunited with Sora so he could go kick the Organization's ass. Now, I'm a ghost of a Nobody and I have know idea why I'm a ghost, espicially since I reunited with my Somebody. I can't interact, indulge, or speak with anything from the mortal world except for a few select people like Mack and you. And, to top it all off, I can't drown my sorrows in alochol."

The blonde put on a false smile and grinned at her, "But enough about me. How was your weekend?"

The girl giggled at him. "You're funny."

"You gotta laugh or you'll cry i guess." the blonde responded, "Though I wish I could end it all."

The smile dissapeared from the girl's face, "Why?"

"I've lost too much. Have too many unanswered questions. Having your own pesonal Hell tends to make you a bit depressed."

The girl nodded thoughtfully, "What about the girl? The one you can't remember."

The boy visibly flinched and got out of his seat. "What about her?"

The girl shrugged, "I don't know. Tell me about her."

"She..." the boy stopped, lost in his memories. His eyes began to well up with teras.

"She was amazing," he finally said, "She was everything to me along with Axel."

The girl cocked her head.

"Axel was my other friend."

"I see." the girl answered.

The blonde closed his eyes. "I couldn't tell you anything in particular about her. It's like somebody took a massive work of art and blurred the centerpiece of it. Erased it. "

The girl watched him. Her emotions were unreadable. The boy had covered his mouth his hand. He stared at the floor, silently crying.

"What's it like?" the girl asked gently, "What's it like not remembering somebody that important?"

He didn't respond. He cried quitely in choking sobs.

"Did you love her?"

The boy turned to her slowly. "Nobodies can't love. And I'd bet that the _ghost _of a freakin' nobody can't love either."

"But you did love her," the girl said, twisting a strand of hair with her finger, "You know you did."

He nodded, "I loved her. As a friend. Mabye more."

There was a long pause. Mack made his way over to the teenagers. He placed a beer in front of the blonde. It was purely a sign of friendship.

Mack drummed his fingers on the table. "I'm not too good with words. But for what it's worth, I mean if you were human, I would take you home and have the wife make you some hot soup. Then we would watch something on TV. Probably something funny."

The blonde had broken into a coughing fit from crying. His eyes were tinted red and his nose was dripping.

"Thanks... Mack," the boy managed to choke out.

"Anytime you need to talk, kid, I'll be there," Mack said before walking away.

The silence continued until the blonde boy had composed himself. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"What's it like forgetting somebody that you love?" the girl whispered.

"I didn't forget her!" the boy snarled, his sadness quickly turning to rage, "She was my best friend! I wouldn't forget somebody like that!"

The rage evaporated, replaced by an air of defeat.

"But... I don't remember her either."

He stared at the girl. "You wanna know what it's like? Imagine waking up everyday and having nobody to talk to about it. Spending countless hours with your best friend. Talking about the silliest of subjects to life-changing conversations. Eating ice-cream with her. Going on missions and slaying the darkness with her. A type of trust, a bond that can only come from the heat of battle. Knowing that whatever happens, she will stand beside you. And yet, despite all the memories, you have absolutely no idea who the hell she is!"

The blonde had started crying heavily again and the black-haired girl stayed silent.

"Knowing that she was somebody so important to you that you risked everything to save her! Knowing that you are an empty shell! Something that can't _feel_. And yet you loved her with all your non-existant heart!"

The boy slammed his fist on the table. "And I killed her! I _murdered _my best friend!"

The blonde was now hysterical. He laughed maddeningly. "And then I caused my other best friend to die too! My two best friends both gave up their lives for me! Selfish assholes! They left me alone to deal with the guilt!"

"I tried to kill myself too you know. I found a couple of hunters shooting duck. I stood in front of their guns and tried to take the bullets. My body wouldn't let me. So i moved on. Climbed on top of a huge building and jumped. That didn't work either."

The girl looked at him with sympathy. "I..."

"I'm not finished," the boy interrupted, "Do you know what it feels like to hate yourself? The longing to end your own life?"

The blonde stared at his raven-haired companion and whispered, "Can you even to begin to comprehend what's it's like to love and lose someone so dear to you and not remember their name? To hold them in your arms and watch as they die? "

His face was now devoid of emotion.

"Do you know how much it hurts me to know I did the right thing?"

"Yes."

The blonde blinked at her and then frowned. "I'm done talking. Thanks for the memories."

The girl sighed and stood up. She pulled a necklace out of her pocket. It was a simple leather cord with a seashell on the end of it. "I want you to have this. It's my good luck charm."

"You know I can't touch it..." The boy muttered, "I'm a ghost remember?"

"Take it anyway. I better get going." She stood up and held out her hand, which the boy shook absentmindedly.

"Thanks for talking to me, Roxas."

And with those final parting words, the girl left.

Roxas once again sat in solitude. Then it hit him. How had the girl known his name? He stared at his hand as if it were possessed. She had touched him! She had shook his hand!

Roxas snatched the seashell off the table. For some reason, it wasn't a suprise that he could grab it. He unfolded the note that happened to be attached to it.

_Dear Roxas,_

_What can I say? I've written this letter so many times. I can't express what you and Axel mean to me. When everybody else convinced me I was nothing but a puppet, you showed up and changed my mind. I don't know if you'll ever recieve this letter. If you do, it means I've found you and I'm waiting for you to wake up. Maybe you will wake up... and maybe you won't. If you don't remember me, I suppose I'll try to find Axel. I can't say I understand why I'm a spirit or ghost or whatever we are, but I have a second chance at life -or afterlife I suppose- and I'm going to make the most of it. I love you Roxas. You're my best friend._

_-Xion_

Xion...

The name hit him like a cannonball. Everything came back. Missions, ice cream, clock towers... death.

Roxas began to cry again. But this time it was with joy, not despair. He rocketed out of his seat and dashed out of the bar. Xion was leaning against a wall, one foot propped against the wall and the other on the ground.

"Xion!" Roxas ran towards her and the two embraced, Roxas crying into the girl's shoulder.

"I was wondering when you'd remember, dummy," Xion said, running her hand through Roxas' messy hair.

Roxas held onto her with an iron grip.

"Let me go dumbass! I still don't know if ghosts can suffocate!"

Roxas laughed. The first real laugh in a long time.

"What's the magic word?"

"_Please _let me go dumbass."

Roxas loosened his grip, but kept his arms wrapped lightly around her back. "Where'd you get the outfit?"

Xion laughed, "I guess it comes with with the ghost package."

The two hugged tightly again, and Roxas noticed something that he had never felt before.

The beating of a heart.


End file.
